


you are in love

by serein



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Cliche, F/M, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, I am so sorry, Mentions of Taylor Swift, O M G, Oneshot, Romance, Sickfic, So many cliches, Some Explicit Language, Taylor Swift - Freeform, after kingsman, asdf, cocoa, slight AU, you are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serein/pseuds/serein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy's sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are in love

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO SORRY. I CANNOT BELIEVE I DID THIS.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR I'D BE KINDA RICH BY THIS POINT.

She finds him wrapped in a faded blue blanket with little white bunny designs, legs drawn to his chest, huddling by the warm furnace. The maroon loveseat he's sitting on is oddly inviting, so she takes the chance and sits down gingerly next to him.

"You told me you were fine, Eggs." 

_She forgot to put on her mascara again,_ he thinks. _She always forgets to put on mascara when she's worried._

His throat feels like a bit like gravel dipped in hardening lava - sandpaper on more sandpaper. He tries to sound confident, but only manages the ghost of an exclamation. 

"I am..." A sniffle. "Absolutely fine." 

"Right, right, well, Merlin might have told me that you were outside for, what, five hours yesterday? When it was sub-zero and he had _explicitly_ told you to get your butt back inside?"

A sniffle. (She can't help but notice that regardless of how red and blotchy he looks, the light from the warm fire undeniably makes him a little bit too attractive for her hormones to stay in check.)

"Bruv, I was just havin' fun, you know?" It's a struggle for him to get the words out, but he manages. _Goddammit, Rox_ , he thinks. _Now you've gotten me into a corner._

"Having fun? Gary Unwin, you are incredible-"

"I know, bruv." (The sniffle comes quickly afterward, and Roxy can only sigh, defeated but not quite yet.) 

She just shakes her head, ponytail lightly touching the back of Eggsy's neck. "-incredibly stupid. You're an utter _idiot._ " 

"Well, thanks for making me feel better, love." He turns away from her, and, curling his lip, tosses the blanket off of his pajama-covered legs, threatening to get up by pushing himself forward towards the edge of the seat. 

"Oh, no, you don't, you little shit." She pulls on his pajama-clad bicep and he's surprisingly light to tug backwards, even under all that muscle. 

He just smiles and cooperates, scooting backwards again to lean his head on her shoulder, messy hair grazing her neck. "I-" A sniffle. "-hate-" A harder sniffle. "-this."

"Told you. You should apologize to Merlin for worrying him so much, Eggs."

"Oh, so it's _Merlin_ who you're thinking about right now?" Somehow it comes out pretty fluently, to Eggsy's own surprise. Maybe it's the flushing of his cheeks that lubricate his throat a little.

"Of course. He's like, my baby." She starts smirking, and he lifts his head up to look at her, cheeks lightly tinted.

"I thought-" A loud sniffle. "-that _I_ was your baby, Rox." He pouts, and she hates herself when the fleeting thought that _he is the most precious fucking thing in the world and should be snuggled and pampered_ comes flying through her brain because let's face it, Eggsy is far from precious and snuggable.

Mostly, at least.

"Nah, you're like, the exact opposite. If I were your mother, I would probably, like, give you away. To Gazelle. You could be her blade baby."

"Dammit, Rox, you know how I-" Another _fucking_ sniffle. "-hate knives."

"Yeah, well, you seemed to like knives when you killed that son-of-a-bitch with one so you could go fuck with a princess, asshole."

"Hey! I was trying to save the world!" He coughs twice this time, and she doesn't bat an eyelash. Well, maybe she does, given that she's both annoyed and very, very worried that he can't go through an entire sentence without dying somewhere in its delivery.

"Right. And you're not a crazed white adolescent boy."

He looks up at her. "I'm in my twenties, Rox."

No sniffle! Yes!

"You act like you're fourteen."

"I do not!" A sniffle. 

_Dammit._

"Trust me, you do. Now hush up, sweetheart." She reaches over and pulls a bright red, heart-shaped pillow out of her bag. Adjusting Eggsy off of her and onto the pillow (which he's surprisingly compliant to, despite his normally constant bitching about his "injured masculinity," to which Roxy can only snort because the kid _fucking chose a pug during training_ ) isn't as hard as she thinks, and she gets up off the loveseat to go make Eggsy some hot chocolate. Reaching back into her bag, she retrieves a tan-and-gold colored bag of cocoa and a nice, family-sized bag of large marshmallows.

She kisses him briefly on the cheek, and to her delight, he blushes just a fair bit. "I'll be right back, love."

He can only smile and adjust the pillow, coughing intermittently. His words are quiet, so she can't hear him. "I love you."

-

The kitchen's immaculate, oddly enough, besides a rotting banana in the metal fruit basket and an unopened bottle of extra virgin olive oil on the granite countertop. 

Unsurprisingly, Eggsy's coffee maker is broken.

_Dammit. Now where the fuck am I going to get water?_

She goes back to the living room and Eggsy raises an eyebrow.

"Your coffee machine's broken. Where can I get hot water?"

"I thought you were the-" A throaty cough. "-the really resourceful one, Rox." At her glare, he tells her that there's a _fuckin' kettle under the stove_ , to which she can only roll her eyes and turn back to the kitchen.

The kettle's exactly where Eggsy said it was, which astonishes her. 

_He knows his kitchen. Maybe he's an avid baker._

She scoffs out loud. _That's fucking hilarious. Eggsy, a baker?_ "He's fucking insane," she mutters to herself. She fills the kettle with water from the tap and places it on the stove, igniting it quickly. Soon, she's got it to an angry boil, and she looks for a pair of oven mitts for the handle. _Damn._

She runs back to Eggsy, and asks him where he keeps his oven mitts. He looks up at her, unimpressed at her skill of finding things (or not finding them), and he just mutters, "in the drawer next to the stove."

She shakes her head at her own stupidity, and rushes back. _Damn, she's out of shape_ , she thinks when she gets back to the kitchen, slightly breathless. _When was the last time she went to the gym? Tuesday? Last Tuesday? Last, last Tuesday?_

The kettle's screaming by this point, and Roxy shuts it up, slightly annoyed, flicking the ignition off. 

She searches his drawers for a mug, finding only neatly organized tupperwear and to her _fucking_ surprise, three entire cabinets full of baking supplies - muffin tins, pie pans, cake pans in several different sizes, frosting bags, cupcake toppers, three enormous cans of cocoa powder, a plump bag of flour, and a bunch of other things that even _she_ doesn't have, and she's supposedly the "cook" in the Kingsman lineup. _So much for that stereotype,_ she thinks. _Eggsy's a fucking baker._

She realizes, then, that the cabinets are labeled on the inside panel, small white letters embellished into the dark heartwood. Eggsy's kitchen is a lot bigger than hers, so it takes her a minute to get to the cup drawers. The best place to find out about someone isn't by looking at their room or their bookshelf; it's by looking at their mug collection. she finds out. Eggsy has about fifteen different mugs, all in various shapes and colors and with a variety of slogans.

"Beyoncé only has 24 hours in a day?" Roxy mutters to herself, reading the slogan on a black-and-white mug with a little still of Beyoncé mid-surfboart printed on the side. 

She puts the Beyoncé mug back where it belongs and she goes back to Eggsy. He bites his lip to keep from laughing and asks her _what the fuck is up now_. "What's your favorite mug?"

"I dunno," he says. "My favorite mug is your mug, if you know what I mean."

She groans outwardly, and blushes inwardly. _Why is he so fucking cute?_

"Okay, Eggs. I'll just pick one. Don't you dare complain if I bring you the one with My Little Pony on it."

"Hey! That's-" A sniffle, reminding Roxy that he is _desperately in need of the fucking cocoa and has no time for mug discussion._ "-that's Daisy's."

"Aight, well, hold on. I'll be right back."

"Okay." A sniffle.

She goes back to them, and one of them makes her far more upset than she likes to admit. "World's Best Boyfriend? I thought Eggsy didn't like attachment." She pushes the thought that _Eggsy didn't love her enough to ask her to be his girlfriend but did love some other girl enough to make her get Eggsy a fucking mug_ away because it was stupid and selfish and she didn't like stupidity and selfishness.

Finally, she picks a blue mug imprinted with a quote that comes directly from that Taylor Swift bridge with the fella with the hair and the she's like oh my god. Roxy selects a second one that reads, "People do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." The only explanation she has for picking the black-and-white-Audrey-Hepburn-stamped mug is the fact that her heart fluttered just a little teeny bit, and because it demonstrates Eggsy was a _fucking teenage girl himself_. 

She pours the cocoa into the two mugs quickly, mixing in the hot water with a little wooden spoon. After a minute of stirring, she pops a handful of the huge marshmallows into the steaming beverages and grabs the handle, walking carefully back to the living room.

-

Eggsy's face lights up when he sees her with the cocoa, and he reaches immediately for the Taylor Swift mug. Roxy, however, sees an opportunity to give Eggsy exactly what he deserves - a hard time - so she capitalizes on it.

"Ah, ah, ah, Eggs, that's mine. You get the Hepburn one."

"But!" He chokes out a single word, and coughs up a fit. She feels bad for a second, and then pushes her sympathy back into her deep, dark, black soul because it was his own _fucking idiotic stupid fault for getting sick anyways._

"But what?"

"Tay is _mine_." And with a sense of finality and a lock of his jaw, he deftly grabs the Taylor Swift mug out of Roxy's hands and holds it preciously to his chest. Roxy watches him, slightly incredulous. (Okay, maybe a little more than _slightly_ incredulous; maybe more like _extremely_ incredulous.)

"I never knew you were such a fan of T-Swizzle," Roxy tells him, grabbing the Hepburn mug and feigning nonchalance when actually she's _fucking elated inside because now her secret Taylor Swift blaring sessions in the training rooms at HQ didn't have to be so secret anymore_.

"I am," he replies, and he sneezes once, only narrowing missing the steaming cup of cocoa, the scent of which he inhales. _Goddamn,_ he thinks. _A bird to make me cocoa when I'm sick. That's all I need in life._

Roxy mutters something, and Eggsy doesn't catch it. He's too occupied watching her red lips - chapped likely from the cold outside, because it looked like she walked a couple blocks from her house to his, given the amount of snow that was melting onto his tile floor from her boots - embrace the grey edge of the mug and the dark brown hot chocolate in one careful, graceful, _beautiful_ sip.

"What was that?" 

"I said, is the cocoa too hot? You're not drinking it. Is it too hot? Mine seems just fine. We can switch if you want, Eggs, I mean, if that's what you want. And you won't get me sick or anything, I took antibiotics in the _tens_ before I got here, Merlin made me. Or rather, he convinced me aggressively, because he described your condition as closer to Ebola than to the common cold, even if I called your mum and she said you were just outside too long, and Merlin had kinda said that too when he first briefed me about you, and - "

He watches as she fumbles around with her words, and finds the offbalanced, ruffled, human Roxy his favorite kind of Roxy. Perfectly imperfect, she was.

She stops suddenly, and catches him staring at her, transfixed.

"What?"

He flinches a little at her words (or, more accurately, word), but stops himself from blurting out what he was actually thinking about. "It's fine, Rox, don't worry. I was just...thinking, you know, about stuff." He sniffles once, and tries not to look straight at her because he's afraid she'll think something fishy is up. He accomplishes this just by staring at one particularly large marshmallow half-sinking in the steaming hot cocoa.

Too bad that Roxy's like a fucking cat, and she pounces when she sees him look away.

"No, it's not fine," she says, face muddling. "Something's not fine. What's going on, Eggsy?"

"Nothing!" He spits out. "I mean, nothing's wrong, bruv, 'm just, you know, sick." He throws in an extra cough at the end to make it more believable. Problem is that once he gets going, he coughs for another twenty-something seconds before catching his breath. Roxy gestures for him to drink at the cocoa, and he takes a tentative sip of the piping hot liquid.

"Fuck, it's hot."

She looks at him and smiles nervously, unsure of what he's going at here. "Sorry, Eggs."

He takes another sip, and swears again at the temperature. She smiles apologetically at him, and he smiles back at her. "Thanks, Rox," he says, taking another sip while at it.

She reaches for his other hand, and he pokes it through under the covers. Taking it, she blushes a little, and replies, "Of course, Eggs."

He takes another sip of the cocoa, and sets it down on the glass table to the side of the loveseat. Sniffling once, he pulls their fingers to his lips absentmindedly, kissing her hand one time. Roxy turns pink, and in her fluster, she lets loose what she'd been thinking all this time.

"I want to bang you right here, right now, on this fucking couch that's completely the wrong shade of maroon."

Okay, well, maybe not exactly what she was thinking. Provided, Eggsy's hair looked _amazingly tempting for her to run her fingers through_ , but what escaped her lips was a little more...refined that that.

"I love you, Eggsy."

"What?"

"I said that, um, I really like you. Yeah. I love you. A lot. I just wanted to say that. Yeah."

He doesn't stop for a single beat on the return.

"I love you too, Rox." 

She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, cocoa in hand, and he turns a faint shade of red. He reaches for the mug of cocoa again, and she takes another sip out of hers. He grins at her, and she grins at him, and they clink glasses. They drink again, and exhale loudly, the warm liquid rushing down Eggsy's parched throat and Roxy's soon-to-be parched throat, given the amount of close contact she's initiating with Eggsy.

They look at each other again, and together, they say the three stupid, fucking words together: "I love you."

And one more.

"Bollocks."

She laughs, and he sends the comment off with a loud, flattering sniffle. "Goddammit," she says, mock-disgusted. 

He chortles, and kisses her silly anyways, which takes Roxy by surprise but it was an action that she had very much been hoping for ten minutes ago so she gets into it.

When they separate, he looks at her in that typical _fucking Eggsy way_ and says, "I knew you didn't care about my germs!"

She just smacks him lightly on his chest, and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Now drink your fucking cocoa, bitch."

"Ooh," he says, punctuating his sentence with a set of coughs, "possessive."

"Nah, I just fucking love you." She leans in for the second kiss, and she gets what she wants.

All is right in the world, she thinks. I am in love.

All is right in the world, he thinks. I am in love.

All is right in the world, they think. We are in love.

-

**Author's Note:**

> FUCK FUCK FUCK I'M SO SORRY FOR DOING THIS
> 
> I HOPE YOU HAD FUN LMAO
> 
> LEAVE ME A COMMENT IF YOU SO DESIRE I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER
> 
> -Max


End file.
